


Deersong

by Glassdyr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 14:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassdyr/pseuds/Glassdyr
Summary: The forest hides a world as rich and cultured as a city. Animal societies spring up among the pines after the mysterious fall of man. The woodland beasts, with their newfound sentience, contribute to the circle of life as they form their own histories, language, worldviews, art, and religion, not unlike the humans that came before them.When a pack of marauding dogs threatens the idyllic tranquility of their patch of Irish forest, three deer -- Auni, Kau'lai, and Milaui -- find themselves on an unexpected journey with some odd accomplices: Sistoll, a blue-blooded rabbit seeking the spirit realm, and Sirienna, a carefree, near-suicidal whinchat. Crossing grasslands, mountain ranges, shorelines, and ravaged cities, the quintet explore how their world has changed as they escape the threat of the dogs at their heels.





	Deersong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auni thinks briefly about the sun, but the sun does not think about her.

The Sun rose, and twelve deer dipped their heads in pious respect. The faint sun-rays flowed through into the forest clearing, warming the tips of the herd’s chilled ears and summoning the dawn mist up from the grass. Every animal in the forest paused to honour the rising of the solar deity and the power it held over the world. The deer in the clearing bowed their heads to their hooves, silently praying to their sun god for good fortune, swift hooves, and a Summer ripe with berries and soft grass. The wolves on a faraway cliff ceased their lonesome howling and watched the west as the last reaches of the night and stars gave way to the coming sun. The vultures raised their heads from under their wings and gazed at the sky with rheumy eyes from their roosts, waiting for the warm winds and easy flight the sunrise promised. Even the wild-dog packs miles away on a city fringe were quiet as warmth seeped like water into fur-patches and mangy skin, bringing forth nebulous memories of houses, plentiful food, and love. The only souls who stirred were the small birds of the branches – the kinglets, wrens, and wood-warblers – who heralded their beloved Sun with joyous, bubbly song and flashes of wing as their silhouettes flickered like faeries in the trees.

When the Sun separated from the horizon and floated alone in the softened sky, the deer raised their heads together and began to forage – a routine followed without fail for hundreds of mornings before. A fawn on the edge of the herd sprang up excitedly, eager to be finished with the almost mournful quiet and play in the thickets with the rabbits. But, she took two bouncy steps towards the holly-bushes around the rabbit warren before she was stopped by a large buck with rich cinnamon fur.

“Auni, why are you so quick to leave?” the buck rumbled as he towered over the tiny fawn. His eyes were dark and sharp, accented by his impressive antlers, but not unkind; merely inquisitive.

The fawn shuffled her hooves and craned her head up to look at the buck. “I was getting bored,” she said, with a small amount of shame; she knew it wasn’t the right answer, but her mind was too young to know how to lie. “The sun is very slow to wake up, but I’m already awake. I don’t want to have to wait for the sun,” she continued, fumbling for the words that would release her from the buck’s gaze and let her play with her long-eared friends.

The buck was silent as it observed her. Auni began to grow uncomfortable, feeling that she had upset not only him, but also the Sun itself, somehow. Just as she was about to ask for forgiveness, the buck surprised her – he laughed: a slow, warm sound, like whiskey and cream together, that matched the easy atmosphere of the dawn around them. “You’re honest. That’s admirable.”

Auni relaxed instantly at the pleasant sound of the buck’s good nature, and the sun warmed the white dapples on her back once more. “But,” said the buck, “please remember your place in this world.”

He turned away from Auni and faced the rising sun, letting his sharpened antlers catch the glint of the dawn. “You are but a tiny fawn, and Nirai’o is bigger and stronger than anything you could possibly think of,” said the buck, referring to the Sun deity in the language of the deer.

Auni paused, absorbing the buck’s words. “Even bigger than an eagle?” she asked,

“Bigger than ten eagles.”

Auni giggled, sensing a game. “Stronger than a bear?”

The buck smiled softly at Auni’s childish questions. _“_ Stronger than a hundred bears.”

“Stronger than you?”

A silence settled in, and the huge deer looked down at Auni, and she felt impossibly small once more. “Stronger than me. Stronger than our entire herd put together.”

The buck nodded his head towards the sunrise. “Look at everything Nirai’o does for us and the forest. It opens the skies and gives us light to see; it feeds the plants that we, in turn, feed on; it keeps us warm when our fur and fat cannot; and it reminds us of our weakness and humility with an impossible show of colours that no hoof-made dye or paint could match.”

Auni looked at the sun, bathing in a wash of orange and yellow, and vaguely felt that the buck was communicating some huge idea, but it passed over her head as untouchable as a bird in flight. She could only think of making holly-crowns and playing hide-and-seek in the leaves with the rabbits, but she tried to hide her impatience.

“Do you understand?” the buck asked, but not like she was in trouble and he was reprimanding her; rather, he asked her legitimately, wondering if she was capable of understanding the abstract concepts of worship and deities.

Auni said, “Yes! yes, of course,” but she couldn’t stop her eyes from sliding from the sunrise to the holly-bushes. She pleaded in her head that the buck wouldn’t push her to explain what she comprehended; vaguely, she thought, _Maybe this is what it is to pray._

A silence followed, and the fawn snapped her head from the hollies to the great deer still towering over her. She was startled to see something somber in the buck’s expression; not outright sad or disappointed, but not happy. But, the buck stepped back a bit and said, “You can go play with the rabbits, now, love,” as if reading her mind.

The fawn twitched her ears up in joy, and bounded to the bushes, where she could already see little rabbit-ears popping out of the thicket, waiting for her. “Thank you, Dad!” she called over her shoulder, pleased that she managed to find the right things to say to free her from her father’s gaze.

She pushed down the feeling of unease that she had disappointed her father – or something bigger than her. That’s a problem for later, she thought, and eagerly began a game of chase with the warren’s kits. The game took her deep into the forest, over fallen trees and under thick canopies and through clumps of wildflowers tied with weeds and dandelions, so she did not see the sun until she burst back into the clearing at sunset, and it didn’t even enter her mind at all until the next morning at dawn.


End file.
